Do Not Put Marco Diaz On A Bus
by CancerTheCrab
Summary: Marco has pretty bad luck but he never thought he'd get the stomach flu on the same day he's forced on a party bus. A party bus for Brittney being followed by monsters. It can't go right, obviously. General sick!Marco things, romantic Starco if you want to squint, platonic if you don't. Rated T for general vomitiness, so if you are faint of heart turn away now.
Do not put Marco Diaz on a bus. It's a terrible idea for everyone around him, including the Hispanic boy himself. Despite knowing of his own terrible motion sickness, he had followed (gotten dragged by) Star onto the bus and was now regretting it dearly. Earlier he'd been feeling iffy, or like he was about to get sick, so he really didn't want to chance it. Mr. and Mrs. Diaz were out on a date, but only because they thought the two kids were going to be in the bus all night having fun at a party. At the moment, Marco was stumbling out of the bus all pale with a sickly green splotching his face. He let out a low groan and honed in on the trash can near him. He heaved violently into the bin, not feeling much better. He'd been through this before and had developed a routine: throw up, get as much air as possible, hope it's over, and repeat. Obviously it would take longer this time, courtesy of sitting on a rolling stool on a bus with monsters running after it for an extended period of time. His stomach settled for a moment and he heard Star approaching him, asking if he was alright. His throat burned and he knew that his stomach would be sore once it was all over. His back ached from being hunched low over the trash can and his nose stung from the smells wafting up into his sweaty face. Star spoke up, "Marco? Are you okay?" He looked up at the girl and shook his head weakly.

"Not…really." His voice was hoarse and faint. "Just…give me a minute," he whispered, his eyes prickling from the pain and effort of throwing up.

"What can I do to help? Maybe there's a spell to help-"

"No! No magic, please."

"Okay, okay. I'll call your mom."

He threw his hand out and leaned heavily on the other one which was started to hurt from the pressure he was applying to the rim of the bin. "No do-don't do that. They're-"he grunted, becoming greener by the second and choked out, "finally on a date night." As soon as he had the last word out, he promptly and vehemently threw up again. Little tears squeezed out of his eyes and he groaned again. His knees buckled, but he chose to drape himself over the bin.

"Oh god- Marco don't do that! Do you know how dirty those things are? I licked one once and that's how I got sick, not because I was playing in the rain like I told you. Or maybe I was. I don't know, anyway get off there, I'll get you home." When she saw his panic she shushed him and said, "Magic free, I promise." Marco's head felt like it was going to burst, so he chose to let Star lean him over her shoulder. "Come on, one foot in front of the other and we'll be there in no time. You'll be okay."

After what seemed like an eternity of stumbling through the lively streets, despite it getting pretty late, the two finally got to the Diaz house. Marco groaned again, he had held it in the whole walk home (except for that dark alley that smelled like rotten milk) but now he forced his weak legs to carry him as quickly as possible to the bathroom. Turning on the lights, he collapsed on the cold, hard floor. It was terribly uncomfortable and didn't help how sore his whole torso felt. His hands slapped against the rim of the toilet, which he didn't want to think about, and completely against his own will heaved again. His stomach was completely empty and all that came up was bile at this point. Marco's whole body hurt and the lights make the back of his eyes pulsate with sharp pains. A small sob made its way past his lips and made his stomach hurt worse, which then forced another sob out of him. It continued in a vicious cycle, little sobs filling the quiet, small space of his bathroom. He heard rummaging in other parts of the house and guessed that Star was getting something. The one corner of his mind that wasn't overtaken by the headache hoped to whatever deity would listen that it wasn't related to magic.

Marco slowly leaned onto his elbows and then shifted onto his side. _Careful…careful, don't throw up on the floor when the toilet is right there_. He rested his cheek against the cold floor and took comfort in the way it felt against his oddly hot face. He usually didn't feel so hot and by the time his stomach was empty the motion sickness would've worn off. Then the little pitter patter of Star's feet came closer. He heard cloth rustling but didn't look up and instead lunged back toward the porcelain rim. Nothing even came up and the pure frustration of the pointlessness of his pain made his eyes squeeze out tears again. They dripped onto the toilet as Star sat down next to his trembling body. He felt her drape a fluffy blanket on him, wrapping an arm around him. She rubbed the small of his back, where it ached the most, and shushed him gently. She whispered comforting nothings and held back his hair when his stomach felt the need to "empty" itself again. "Shhh…shh it'll be okay. I'm here."

Time lost its meaning as Marco's stomach tried to rid itself of a nonexistent substance. Each little sob and hiccup jolted his shaking frame. "Marco," Star whispered, "It's been half an hour since you threw up. Wanna go to bed?" He bit his lip and buried his face in his shoulder.

"What if I need to throw up again?" He was scared to go anywhere lest his nausea acted up again. But, Star was right.

"I'll bring the trash can. You'll be okay, because I'm here," he nodded and accepted her hand, allowing the girl to lead him to his extremely tantalizing bed. It was soft and the pillows refreshingly cool, but the sheets quickly warmed up due to his fever. Star had felt his overheated skin and stuck a thermometer on his mouth and later declared he _was_ sick. His bed was quickly becoming hotter but Marco knew he'd been unbearably cold if he stepped out. So, he stayed put and focused on what his best friend was saying. "I looked up what to do when someone won't stop throwing up and was too hot and figured out you have the stomach flu. It says to," she paused to check, "'Provide them with fluids and small amounts of foods. Saltine crackers, apple juice, and liquid electrolytes are suitable.' So I got you these." Star held up a plate of lightly salted crackers and a…sippy cup. With what appeared to be apple juice.

"Star."

"Yes, Marco?"

"I'm not drinking from that." Star grinned widely and put down the crackers. Marco's eyes widened as she began to make _train noises_.

"Here comes the apple juice train!"

"Star- wait no, I'm not drinking from a- mmph-"His words were muffled as she took advantage of the opportunity and shoved the tip of the cup into his mouth. He scowled at her and refused to drink the juice. Star pouted, thought for a moment, and then her face lit up. Marco's eyes widened as her grin returned in all its diabolical glory.

She squeezed the cup.

Golden apple juice was squirted into his mouth and the only thing he could do was swallow. Star took away the cup, victorious, and smiled more sweetly this time. "See?" She said. "You're okay. It's not too bad, right? At least you won't spill." The Hispanic boy was stunned. His stomach didn't immediately reject it. He nodded reluctantly and accepted the crackers she held up for him. Slowly, very slowly, he ate the meager snacks she'd gotten him. Regardless of her reassurances, Marco was still a bit reluctant. By the end of the slow process, he was left a bit strung out and was still exhausted from all the throwing up. Star was getting him some honey lemon tea - for his sore throat – but he was slowly falling asleep. The door creaked open and the bubbly girl padded in, wearing her pajamas and holding the same cup that had held the apple juice, only it was cleaned. Star helped him up as he and accepted the comfortingly warm plastic cup. He croaked out a 'thanks' and took a long, soothing sip of the tea. The heat from the tea blossomed out through his sore abdomen, pulling a hum of content from him. Despite how delicious it was, Marco's eyelids were drooping and he was already sliding back down his fluffy pillows.

He rasped, "You don' have to…play nurse, y'know." He was exhausted and was ready to fall asleep and starting to slur his words. She took the cup from him.

"I'm not playing nurse, I'm being a good friend."

"But…I'm all gross. And vomity and," he paused let out a breathy giggle, "…goey."

"Alright, okay, time to sleep ." She helped him back under the covers and stroked his hair. She hummed softly as she carded her fingers through his hair gently. The bed was soft and silky and warm, it felt as though he was snuggled in a solid cloud. He murmured a quiet 'thanks' and let himself drift off.

oO-Oo

"…ney. Marco? Wake up, sweetie." His hearing came back first, and he could've opened his eyes if he wanted to. He didn't, though, and rolled over. The sheets followed him and kept him in his little cocoon. "I need to know how you feel, _mi amor_." Next, he smelled his mom's softener on her shirt. Now he could feel his mother's familiar hands feeling his forehead and stroking his hair. Slowly, reluctantly, he rolled back over and tried to cast away the comforting tendrils of sleep and rubbed his eyes. Marco began to remember that he had gotten sick and immediately registered his stuffed nose, his headache, the way his whole body felt like a wet noodle, and how despite not being sleepy anymore his brain felt hazy. It took a lot to open his eyes and he would much rather go back to sleep, if possible. It was too hot but the air outside of his bed felt freezing.

"Hi mom." It came out squeaky and almost inaudible, he'd lost his voice.

"How're you feeling, _mi chicitito_?"

Marco closed his eyes again and breathed through his mouth. His nose was congested and made his forehead throb alongside his temples. His whole head felt like it was filled with cotton, as though he was a tiny doll with overflowing stuffing. After a while he said, "Tired. My head hurts, _mama_." His stomach was really sore, too, but the pain in his skull was taking priority. If he really was a doll, his buttons-for-eyes would be popping off for sure.

"I'll get you some painkillers." His mom said, stroking his hair once more before heading down to the kitchen to get the pills and water. He whimpered when his head throbbed especially bad and turned over on his side again.

"Oh jeez," he would've yelled if he could've, the sight of a sleeping Star almost scared the crap out of him. She looked a bit disheveled where she lay on the other side of his bed, curled up near the wall. _She must have stayed to take care of me_ , he thought but he was way too tired to feel bad at the moment. Later, he'd apologize to no end but he was about to fall asleep. His mom stepped in the room and smiled softly, handing him the medicine for headaches and the cup of water.

"She was on the chair when we got here. She said she stayed up until we came home to tell me you were sick. Thankfully, my Super Mom Instinct kicked in and told me something was wrong, so we got home earlier than I thought we would."

"Thanks _mama_." His mother kissed him on the forehead and pulled the blankets over him and Star, and the moment his head hit the pillow he was out.

oO-Oo

Okay! So I'm obsessed with this show? Like absolutely enthralled. I ship Starco both platonically, because best friend relationships are nice, and romantically but this is up to the reader. Bye bye!


End file.
